Pelennor Field
by Vanwa Lullaby
Summary: The battle of Pelennor Fields was coming to an end, and the people of Rohan, and Gondor were winning. The battle had just come to an end when Aragorn made a mistake that may cost him the closest friend he ever had. Oneshot


**:) This is my first LoTR fanfiction. I have only read the books once, and it has been ages since i have seen the movies, so pardon me if the information is a little off.**

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The day was close to coming to an end. All light started to fade from the sky. The enemy's numbers were shrinking, but they were still fighting back. The forces of the West were so close to winning, so close to bringing this part of the war to a close. But, it was not over yet. Not all was won yet.

King Théoden had already been felled by the Witch King, and the Witch King felled by Lady Eowyn with the help of Merry. They had already succumb to the black breath, and Lady Eowyn was fading quickly. But, there was still hope, and with that, they fought on. As long as there was hope, they could continue. They could win.

Faramir was in the House of Healing, still overcome with a fever. He was fading, but he still held on to life. If could hold out until the end of the battle, then, maybe, he could overcome it. The healers could not pay him much attention, though. Men who had been wounded when the fight were dying, bleeding to death. Men that had been burned by the fires were slowly fading. He could be spared more attention than the others. At that moment, he was not Faramir, Steward of Gondor, he was just another injured man.

Orcs and Easterlings continued to fall. The oliphaunts were slowly being brought down, taking many lives in the process. The fell beasts, and the Nazul had gone, having a leader no more. But, the great men of Rohan, and Gondor fell too. Not all of them could make it out alive.

Aragorn was still fighting valiantly. Miraculously, he had sustained another but a couple of scratches. Anduril was stained black, and dark red with the blood of his enemies. He had no time to clean it just then. He would have to take care of that later.

The orcs had realized by then that he was a very skilled fighter, and a leader of the others. They targeted them. They had to watch their backs though, for they were out numbered.

Aragorn approached a group of orcs that was distracted by a fallen oliphaunt that had nearly crushed then. Quickly, he swung his sword, taking off ones head. Before they could turn around, another one fell. But, the other two had turned now, and had drawn their weapons. They smiled, obviously thinking they had the upper hand because he was outnumbered. Aragorn moved quickly, catching one off guard, and sticking Anduril straight through his gut. The other swung, but Aragorn, ducked, almost getting his head sliced off. In a quick move, he yanked his sword out of the other orc, and put it through the one who had just swung at him. He held the gurgle of blood in it's throat, and pulled his sword out, shinning with new blood.

Aragorn scanned the area. All of the oliphaunts had gone done by then, or gotten away. Barely any enemies stood, and they were quickly falling. He looked for the blonde head of Legolas, and the short form of Gimili, but saw neither. Quickly pushing the concern for his friends away, he figured that they must be off somewhere out of his sight. After all, he couldn't see every single thing still out there fighting. They could be inside the walls of the city, too. Spotting a small group of orcs trying to run away, he charged back into battle.

When he reached the orcs that had been trying to escape, Aragorn heard more footsteps coming up behind him. He saw another couple of orcs coming at him. It was an ambush, a trick to lure someone in. But, Aragorn was going to go down without a fight. He attacked.

Just as before, the orcs fell quickly, he himself not getting a single scratch on him. Aragorn was lucky, extremely lucky, and he knew that. It seemed as though the orcs were falling even without him touching them. Just as he fell what he had thought was the last orc attacking, Aragorn heard labored breathing approaching behind him. Assuming it was another orc, he spun around, swinging Anduril.

It sliced into flesh, but it wasn't orc flesh.

* * *

Legolas, and Gimili were quickly separated from Aragorn when they joined the fight, but somehow managed to keep within sight of each other, always close enough to hear the counting of the other. Despite being in such a life threatening situation, Legolas found himself having fun. He enjoyed his little games with the dwarf.

He added two to his count when two of the Easterlings fell from his arrows. He smiled, and looked at the dwarf, who just huffed, and quickly swung his axe at a nearby foe. It was obvious he hadn't felled as many as he himself had. Legolas was sure that he would win, yet again. But, he was also sure that Gimili would argue him on his kills. He never got an easy win when it came to the dwarf.

Spotting another prey, Legolas moved forward, and pulled his two arrows out of the men he had just killed. He had to keep doing that to make sure he didn't run out of arrows. He was dangerously low, but not completely out yet. He pulled one back on the string of his bow, the other still in his hand. He pulled it back, and then let it fly. It went straight through the orc's that he had been aiming at neck. It fell to the ground, dead.

"Thirty-seven. Thirty-eigh'" He heard Gimili count from behind him, and smiled. He had ten on the dwarf, and the battle was drawing to an end. Few of Sauron's minion's remained, and they were falling fast. They were winning.

Quickly shooting the other arrow he had picked up into an orc's neck, Legolas added yet another one to his count. He turned, and saw Aragorn fall the last of a group of orcs a bit away. He watched as Aragorn spotted the group of orcs trying to escape, and saw a group of five more orcs coming up behind him. Deciding that his friend could use his help, Legolas started off that way, pulling three arrows out of his quiver. There was one arrow left in his quiver.

Once he was sure he was close enough, he fired off one arrow, then another just seconds later, bringing down two more orcs. He had to be careful not to hit Aragon, who was moving quickly bringing down the orcs almost as fats as Legolas was. He didn't seem to notice the two brought down my arrows rather than his own sword.

Legolas moved closer, only two orcs remained. He shot one down with the last arrow he had pulled out. He closed the gap between himself and his friend as Aragorn brought down the last orc. He had been fighting for hours, and was tired, even though he was an elf. He hadn't had a sleep that lasted more than an hour, or so in a couple days, and they had been on the constant move. As a result of that, and the fighting, he was breathing heavily.

Unfortunately, Aragorn had not seen Legolas helping him, and had no idea that it was Legolas who approached him, not an enemy. It was Legolas that the sword cut into, not an orc. It was Legolas who fell to the ground, a cry of pain, and surprise leaving his lips.

He was lucky, in a way, though. Aragorn had been expecting an orc, and orcs are usually a little shorter than elves. So he had been aiming low, wanting t get the orc straight through the gut, But, it hadn't been an orc, it had been Legolas. And I t hadn't gone though the gut, but into his leg. And, Aragorn had realized what he had done quickly, and was able to pull his sword out before it went straight through his friend's leg.

Nonetheless, Legolas had been severely hurt by the one man he was sure he could trust.

* * *

The sun reached the horizon, and the day long battle came to an end. Sauron's minions had failed, and had been slaughtered. Rohan and Gondor, the kingdoms of the west, had won, but not without paying a price. Many had fallen that day. Thousands of men were killed, or wounded. The great King Théoden had been killed, and Lady Eowyn was somewhere between life and death.

They could not celebrate yet. The dead had to be counted, and the wounded taken to the house of healing. Only the worst would be let in, though. If the wound was not life threatening, the healers could not spend there time on them. They would have wait, and be tended by others who were not as skilled in the talent of healing.

Aragorn knew he had no time to waste. He had done a good deal of damage to Legolas's leg. If he did not get it attended to soon he would bleed to death, and quickly. He sheathed his sword, and gently picked Legolas up, making sure not to jostle him to much. He could tell that the elf did not like the idea of having to be carried off the battlefield, especially off of one they had just won on, but he could also see that the elf was slowly slipping out of conciseness from the blood he had already lost.

As quickly as he could, Aragorn made his way across the field, and to the city. He had to watch for the fallen, and those tending to them. While making way, he kept his eye out for Gimili, sure he would be looking for them, but didn't see him. He didn't let it bother him too much. There was a more pressing matter on his mind.

Despite the distance, and all of the obstacles, it didn't not take long for Aragorn to reach Minas Tirith. Many more men lay on the streets there. Walls had fallen, and some fires still burned. People were working to clear the roads already, knowing they needed to make a path for the wounded to be brought up to the House of Healing. Aragorn rushed around them, and up the road.

When he reached it, the healers stared at him a moment, then at the elf in his arms. Instead of taking him to where the others were, they took him to one of the other rooms, the room saved for people of importance. Legolas was an elf of importance, after all. Heir to the woods of Mirkwood, if he chose not to pass over the seas.

At first, Aragorn did not notice the figure on the only other bed in the room. He gently set Legolas on the other bed in the room. The healer that had showed him the way in quickly moved forward to inspect the wound. She was an older lady, but she seemed to very learned in what she was doing.

"Hold this against his leg to help stop the bleeding. I need to go get a bandage, and some herbs for it." The lady said, handing Aragorn a slightly damp cloth. He took it from her, and softly pressed it against the elf's leg, not wanting to hurt him by putting too much pressure on it. He had to remind him self that the elf had lost conciseness, and he couldn't feel it at that moment. He applied a little more pressure.

He looked around the room for the first time, and saw the figure on the other bed. At first he thought it was Boromir. For they looked a great bit alike. But, as he continued to look at the man, he noted that this man was smaller, slighter, younger. And, Boromir was dead. He had died in his arms.

Aragorn knew who that man was, though. It was Faramir, son of Denethor, who was the steward of Gondor. And where was Denethor? Why was he not there, tending to his only son? Surely, he knew of Boromir by now. Gandalf had come here, after all. Si, if he knew that this was his only son, why was he not there?

He looked over the man, his healer instincts kicking in. He was barely breathing, he noted, seeing the slight rise and fall of the man's chest. His face was pale, extremely pale, and he was sweating. Also, there was bruises forming on his skin. T appeared as though he had a fever, but had also been battered around. Aragorn assumed that Faramir had not been wounded in fight, but that whatever ailed him was from before it began.

Aragorn looked away from Faramir, and out the door. He did not wish to see what he had done to Legolas. His hand that was not holding the cloth in place was on his chest, though, so he knew he was still breathing. He wished the healer would hurry, and return.

As he stared out the door, he saw four men barring a man on a stretcher between them. Aragorn could not get a good look at the man. They carried him past him room, and into one of the other private rooms. Another group of four passed, just moments after the last had gone. They too bore a soldier on a stretcher. Aragorn knew the man on the front corner facing him. It was Eomer, and he seemed pained. Then they disappeared, and he could hear them moving in the room next to the one he was in. The healer came in them, laden with materials for Legolas's wound.

"Sorry 'bout that." She said, setting them down on the table next to Legolas's bed. She started preparing herbs to put on Legolas's wound. "You can take that away now. The bleeding shoulda stopped by now."

Aragorn brought the bloodstained cloth away. "Who was that they bore?"

"The first was King Théoden, of Rohan. The next was Lady Eowyn. She snuck into battle." The healer said.

"Do you know what happened to them?" Aragorn asked.

"Aye, I do. The King was felled by one of those black, cloaked men. Killed him, he did." She said, not looking up. "Lady Eowyn apparently felled the man who killed her king. They know not if she's going to make it yet."

Aragorn didn't say anything, but watched the woman as she gently washed the blood from Legolas's leg. She tore that part of his legging off, and put herbs on, and around the wound before wrapping it.

"He'll be fine, dear. You can go, find you friends." The woman said without looking up.

"Thank you." Aragorn said. He didn't want to leave Legolas's side, but he needed to find the others.

He ran out of the room, and almost bumped into a soldier, barring a small person in his arms. Aragorn knew him.

"Merry!" He said. "I'll take him."

"He is to go to the room with Lady Eowyn." The soldier said. Aragorn nodded, and took the hobbit from the man's arms. He was dirty, and unconscious, but he was alive.

"Aragorn!" Came a voice. The soldier turned, and walked away, and Gandalf, and Pippin took his spot.

"Come, he needs to be healed." Aragorn said to them, leading them into Eowyn's room.

"Sorry, my Lord, but I have no idea of what ails her. I can not heal what I do not know." A healer said as Aragorn set Merry down on the empty bed. He looked up to see a healer leave the room, and Eomer walked over to his sister, and take one of her hands in both of his.

"They have been claimed by the black breath, Aragorn." Gandalf said to him. "They need your help to come back to us."

Aragorn looked up at him, then over to Eomer. "Don't worry, I'll take care of your sister. She'll come back to us."

Eomer looked up at Aragorn. There was doubt in her eyes. "I can't lose her, Aragorn. She is all I have left."

"I will bring her back to us. Do not worry."

* * *

Aragorn managed to bring Eowyn, and Merry back to them using athelas. Also, he helped bring Faramir back. He help many people. Legolas was not among them, though. The elder healer woman took care of him, and his leg. Aragorn had tired to help him, but when he did so, Legolas flinched from his touch. He set the woman to Legolas then.

A couple days had passed when Aragorn, and Eomer decided to led those who would go with them to make one last stand against Sauron. They wanted to draw his eye away from Frodo, and the ring. They wanted to give them a better chance.

On March 18, they led their men out. Gandalf, Pippin, and Gimili all went, but Faramir, Merry, and Legolas could not, despite how much they wanted to. They were still on the mend, and had to stay in the house of healing. While confined there, Legolas entertained them with his stories, and songs. Eowyn, and Faramir spent a lot of time in the gardens, but Legolas spent more, and more time in his room. He distanced himself from others, and grew quiet, and sullen, much unlike his usually self. It was blamed on being left behind.

On March 25, Aragorn, and his host reached the black gates. The battle of Morannon began. When the ring was destroyed, the armies fell along with Sauron himself.

The hobbits were saved by the eagles, and were tended to by Aragorn himself. When they returned to the city, he would not enter, for word had spread that he, the king, had returned. Legolas did not leave the city to greet his friend, but stayed inside the city walls.

On May 1, Faramir, steward of Gondor, crowned Aragorn king. He entered the city of Minas Tirith as King Elessar. It was at his crowning that he saw his friend Legolas for the first time in two months. Legolas simply bowed his head as the others did, but said nothing to him. The smile that had been on King Elessar's face had disappeared then.

Lady Arwen, and Elrond came. On midyear's day, many gathered for the wedding on King Elessar, and Lady Arwen. Legolas simply gave them his blessing, but said nothing else to them.

They all traveled to Rohan for the funeral of King Théoden, then what remained of the fellowship traveled to Isengard. There, they went their separate ways. Legolas did not return any of the farewells given to him, but rode off alone, in silence. King Elessar was hurt by the actions, for Legolas had been his dear friend, and now was not speaking to him. He returned to Minas Tirith.

A year had passed, and the King was rebuilding his kingdom, restoring it to the glory it once had. Gimili had brought some of his kin to the Glittering caves, where he became King of the Glittering Caves. They helped to rebuild the stonework in Gondor, and Rohan. The gate that was fallen during the Battle of Pelennor Fields was replaced with one of mithril, and steel.

Although he did not ever say it, Gimili too missed the elf. He had grown quite found of having him around, and listening to him hum to himself, or sing while with the fellowship. They had grown close, forming an unlikely friendship. When he was wounded, he distanced himself from them all, and even stopped singing. The only thing that he had said to Gimili since then was that he had won, he had killed the most.

King Elessar was with Lady Arwen, and their month old son when Faramir had arrived. They had not seen him since he was made Prince of Ithilien, almost a year past. So, it was a surprise when they found him waiting for them in the hall.

"King Elessar, Lady Arwen." He said, bowing his head when he say them. He had heard of the birth of their son, Eldarion. All of the people of Gondor had.

"Faramir, what brings you here?" The king asked of him.

"Something has… arisen in Ithilien that I thought you should know of." Faramir said, seeming a little unsure of what to say.

"What is it?" King Elessar asked, concerned.

"A group has decided to settle there."

"In the city?" He was confused.

"No, not in the city. They… well ,I think it would be best if you saw it for yourself." Faramir said, fighting a smile.

"I think I will go, and see. I wish to see what you have done with the city, also." King Elessar said, giving Faramir a smile.

And with that, the King said goodbye to his wife, and child, and set out with Faramir to go see what it was Faramir was talking about. The journey wasn't long, taking only a day. They reached the city, took a rest, and had a meal with the Lady Eowyn. Once finished, Faramir, and King Elessar left the city, heading towards the woods that separated the city from what used to be Mordor.

"They took the woods?" King Elessar asked. The trees that had been left standing in Sauron's time looked much better, and there were saplings, and young trees planted. Grass, and small flowers grew on the ground again. It was returning to the beauty it once was.

"They did." Faramir said with a smile. "Shall we go in?"

Without saying a word, the King started into the woods. They had not gone too far in when Faramir put a hand on the king's shoulder to stop him. "Listen." He said quietly. They stood there, and listened. A soft sound came to them. Voices, singing. Faramir could not understand the songs, but King Elessar could.

"Elves." He said quietly. He took a couple steps forward. Suddenly, a figure in a light green cloak dropped down from a tree in front of them.

"It has been too long." The elf said. King Elessar smiled.

It was Legolas.

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**Thanks for reading it! Please, review!**


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